Living #42

Living #42

In a life filled with many regrets

where the past begets the future feeling

of a mind free wheeling, always debating

the love and the hating, abounded by and becoming

our living and loving, our death and our birth

realising our worth, realising the reasons

through all of our seasons, from cradle to grave

whether stupid or brave, whether smart or obscure

it's what we're here for, to meet with those few

who believe as you do and match where it matters

making hearts chatter, to fill with fluttering wings

those butterfly things deep down in your soul

driving the goal of that ages old mission

the life we've been given and the lives we create

when we find our soul mate.

By J. Barrett

Beyond The Break

Beyond The Break

Beyond the crashing blue, as the world rhythmically rises and falls,

Lonesome bubbles of foam float past, flotsam on the eddying fast.

A glimpse of land, a booming crash, salty spit sprays up into the air.

Swirling sand sweeps by beneath from the ocean bed to a sun drenched beach.

A lone figure, as insignificant as a grain of sand, floats amongst the vast expanse,

Rising and falling in the watery world, solitary and silent, alone with the sounds of the sea.

Submissive to the swirling currents, malleable limbs move in tempo to the maritime music.

Gently bobbing, buoyant in the saltiness,

Inching closer to shore; before being pulled away again.

A slow, sinister dance with the ocean currents.

The water rises up, a dark face sleek and shiny, wild foamy hair dancing upon its peaks.

The lip curls at the insignificant speck on it's surface.

With an explosion of white water, it envelops, dragging it down to the dark depths.

Rolling, tumbling, frolicking amongst the sand and coral,

The body bobs up buoyantly, wobbling in the waves.

The shore is closer, the sea is sickened by it's presence,

A vomitus wave ejects it finally, rolling it, flopping it, onto the sand.

Yet a lone arm remains floating in the shallow water,

Waving, waving, waving to the waves.

By J. Barrett

Whence This Occurrence

Whence This Occurrence

My confidence begot consequence.

Your innocence was my influence,

Yet your independence was in evidence.

Your intelligence shone forth iridescence.

Your essence was evidence of the existence of excellence.

My first sentence broke the silence,

And your pretence at my presence.

My tongues impotence was a lone incidence,

Incoherence from my impertinence.

The cadence of my conscience finally caused consistence of coherence.

And you showed patience at my persistence;

We got decadence from our indulgence.

This confluence was no coincidence.

Now your absence causes abstinence.

By J. Barrett

Drowning In The Dark

Drowning In The Dark

The darkness comes in many forms,
like rains that come from many storms,
filling the mind with blackened thoughts,
a rising tide of feelings fought.

        The clawing hands that will drag down.

The darkness closing from all sides,
thoughts that twist and tug, then hide,
thoughts that push and crowd and flood,
with feelings that it's all too much.

        Thoughts and feelings in which'll drown.

Claws that grasp, and hold on tight,
weaken the mind against it's fight,
allowing the darkness to roll on in,
a blackened husk encased in skin.

        Lost and lonely, 'twill never be found.

Suffering in silence, alone in the war,
fighting the feelings deep at the core,
the thoughts crowd in, loud in the mind,
waiting for wounds to heal in their time.

        Waiting won't work, blackness abounds.

Blackness that's there, always present,
a mind full of thoughts, causing descent,
feelings that crowd and silence the sense,
is death the only recompense?

        Death; a thought that speaks so loud.

Blast the thoughts out of the mind,
to pick the brain of bits to find,
to silence the words, silence the curse,
really, could not living be any worse?

        At least the darkness won't make a sound.

By J. Barrett

I Want I Need

I Want I Need

I want to write, but can't

I want to fly, but shan't

I need to feel alive

I need to heal, revive

I want to draw, but don't

I want to soar, but wont

I need to find my love

I need to rise above

I want to go, but stay

I want to grow, but stray

I need to speak, confess

I need to shriek, express

–

By J. Barrett

Father Knows Best

Father Knows Best

When I was a little boy, 

I was short and not too thin.

My father put me on the rack,

To stretch my stumpy limbs.

Now I'm over 10 feet tall,

And I bend in a strong breeze.

But it's not all ash & vinegar,

I get the best fruit from the trees.

By J. Barrett

Breathe

Breathe

Good things come to those who wait.

Unless, you're moments from your death.

And you're deep down under the water,

And you need another breath.

By J. Barrett

Fatty & Skinny

Fatty & Skinny

Jack Spratt was a skinny chap,
His wife was a fat old hen.
When they stood beside each other,
They resembled the number 10.
And when they had the money,
They would go out on the town.
They never needed to hire a cab,
Jack would just roll her around.
When Jack's wife wanted a baby,
Poor Jack, never before been laid,
He ordered a big bag of flour,
Which he'd need to find his way.
He dusted her with the powder,
And found her holiest of caves,
But her fat rolls swallowed him up;
And he didn't come out for days!

By J. Barrett

Sinking 'Ship

Sinking 'Ship

This 'ship is going down!
We've hit something hard.
And cold.
Is that your heart?
Or is it mine?
No longer beating in time.
This 'ship is going down!
Women and children first.
Save our souls
Our hearts
Our love?
Got to try and stay above,
But the waves are crashing over me.
Waves of guilt; of fear.
I feel so lonely.
This 'ship is going down!
Got to try to get away.
Before I'm pulled back;
Dragged down,
Drowning.
In my tears,
In your tears.
We could flood an ocean.
This 'ship is going down!
Will I rise to the surface?
Or sink down – down – down –
And drown?
Should I stay aboard?
Or jump into the safety
Of the unknown?
The blue is beckoning,
Calling. I know it well.
My life's a misery,
A living hell.
The bow is going under,
The back-end is still afloat;
I curse the day we ever met,
And boarded this sinking boat.
The cold is lapping at my feet,
Filling me with chills.
My heart, it feels no difference,
My heart is cold. And still.
But my mind won't stop chattering,
Never has. Never will.
This 'ship has gone now, my love
Our end is, oh, so near.
We.
Never should have taken this trip,
Of us. With you.
It's going – going – gone –
Our relationship.

By J. Barrett

Sorriness

Sorriness

I know you're hurting,

I feel it too.

You can't invest time,

And walk away clean.

But this pain,

This shattered heart,

It mends, goes away,

When a new life starts.

I'm so sorry.

I don't want you to hurt;

But should I be unhappy,

To keep you happy?

I care about you.

But I care about me too.

There is no hate,

What we had was good,

No, fuck!, it was great.

But things can change,

They usually do.

And I need to do this,

I know you're hurting.

I am too.

By J. Barrett

Time

Time

        Killing myself.
                Slowly,
                        with cigarettes.
        Poisoning myself.
                Harshly,
                        with wine
        Driving too fast
                down a one-way street.
        But which way is right?
                I don't want to die, but
                        I want to kill what we have.
                I don't want to hurt you, but
                        I want my heart back.
It's time to stop.
        Killing myself,
                with cigarettes.
        Poisoning myself,
                with wine.
Loving you.
        It's time to start.
                Enjoying life,
                        with cigarettes.
                Enjoying a glass,
                        of wine.
                Time for me to get on with life,
                        without you by my side.

By J. Barrett

Ink

Ink

Oh ink, incredible ink,

marker of my words;

fluid of my thoughts.

Oh ink, incredible ink,

life blood of my pen;

stain upon my hands.

Oh ink, incredible ink,

writer of rights,

writer of wrongs.

Oh ink, incredible ink,

dark lines upon paper;

scratchings upon lines;

lines upon lines

of words

painting pictures.

Oh ink, incredible ink,

make my thoughts heard;

mark my page,

print my words.

Oh ink, incredible ink,

extension of my mind.

By J. Barrett

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday

        If I live to be one hundred years old,

Then I am now a third of my way through this life.

But then, numbers are a man conceived notion,

        time harnessed by the calenders and clocks.

I don't feel as old as I suppose I should feel;

And it was only yesterday I was but a child.

        Does that mean I'll be an old man tomorrow?

If so, I will only be old in body.

        My spirit will always be young;

                My energy will always be sprightly;

                        My mind will always be willing;

Even if my wrinkled, withering, desiccated carcass is not.

By J. Barrett

Dream a Dream

Dream a Dream

With your eyes tightly closed, as you drift off to sleep,

wonder who in your dreams it is you will be.

When you're fast asleep you can dream anything,

be a prince or a princess, or even be king.

Be slayer of dragons or feared captain of seas,

with your eyes tightly closed, be whatever you please.

An astronaut floating through space;

a time traveller flying through time;

or a lady in lace waiting dainty in line.

A cowboy, or girl, with guns slung on your hip;

or a dolphin jumping gaily through the wake of a ship.

Be a little bird flitting through the soft fluffy clouds,

or a fierce and proud lion whose roar is so loud.

Be an explorer who climbs mountains,

or digs tunnels underground,

and discovers buried treasure, that has never been found.

Be a billionaire on your yacht,

or a poor pauper in Paris;

whatever you want, let your imagination fly free.

So close your eyes child, and drift off to sleep,

and make your own adventures in a field full of dreams.

By J. Barrett

Little Old Ladies Are Dangerous

Little Old Ladies Are Dangerous

Five frail little old ladies, who were the better side of ugly,

Got me on the street one day; and then they bloody mugged me!

They didn't move that quickly, they actually appeared a little slow,

But those sneaky little pensioners, were quick and packed a blow.

The first one had a walking frame, gripped tight in her wrinkly hands,

She poked me in the belly, and told me to straighten my stance.

I stood up a little straighter; I was slouching, as I'm prone to do.

And that's when the next one came at me, little old lady number 2.

Her handbag was a whirring blur, helicoptered above her head;

And I'm certain if it had hit me square, I'd be surely laying dead.

But lucky for me, her heavy bag, just glanced upon my knee,

Still, it dropped me down to the ground, just in time for number 3.

That little old lady, she was riding high, cackling crazy on her gopher,

As she went buzzing by, she lashed out, cracking me with her loafer.

Her pleather shoe connected squarely with my still befuddled noggin;

And if it hadn't brained me dumb, I'd've been out of there, a jogging.

Instead, lots of little doily stars, floated around, and in and out of sight;

Then in came little old lady number 4, whooping with all her might.

She launched herself above me, to come crashing down upon my gut,

And blasted the wind pure from me; by now I had really had enough.

I would have given them anything, to put a stop to all of this abuse.

As I was rolling around in pain, number 5 stole my wallet and shoes.

So if you see a little old lady, hastily cross the street and stay away,

They're evil little creatures, who'll kick your ass and make you pay.

Oh, and if you're wondering what was said when I finally saw the cops,

It was, 'Listen sonny, this isn't funny,' and then they told me to piss off.

But I should have realised better, after I was waved off with detest,

Beneath that policeman's outfit, was a little old lady behind the desk.

By J. Barrett